Metastasize
by Rayrawl
Summary: Dean knows every nuance of his little brother. Knows when he's happy, sad, hungry and sick. So when Sammy starts presenting with weird symptoms, Dean knows something i wrong, but his dad won't listen to him. Is it too late to fix him, or will Dean and Sam battle it through together? Dean-7/8 Sam-3/4 Sick!Sammy Awesome!Worried!Dean/Bobby Useless!Guilty!John. Will be angsty.
1. Nosebleeds and Petit Mal

**Hi there! Okay, so this has been torturing me as a story line for a while now and i've had this first chapter partially written for weeks. I finally decided to finish it and see what people thought and if i should continue it. There will be lots of angst and hurt/comfort/family going on here. Sam is 3/4 and Dean is 7/8. AU mostly because of childhood events.**

**No beta so all mistakes are my own :)**

* * *

Sammy is three and a half when Dean first realises something is wrong. He bruises too easily, he's cold all the time. The kid has been having nosebleeds all month and whenever Dean asks him what's hurting he complains of 'poowly fwoat' and 'owchy bones'. And as cute as it is when Sammy talks in his adorable toddler voice, Dean would Much rather it not be those words he hears most often.

At almost eight years old, Dean knows that he doesn't really know a lot, but he does know Sammy. He knows when Sammy is happy, sad, hungry, hurting or poorly. Has known everything about his baby brother since dad put him in Dean's arms at six months old and his Sammy intuition has only grown better with time. So he knows without a doubt, that something is very wrong with his little brother. He decided to mention it to his dad, waiting until he got back from the last hunt before asking him about it.

"Dad, Sammy is sick. I think he needs a doctor."

"What do you mean, sick?" John replies, hardly lifting his eyes from his journal to glance at Dean stood by his chair. Dean sighs, glancing back at Sam who is curled up in bed watching cartoons and looking too skinny and pale.

"He's always cold and said his throat hurts and his bones are achy. And he keeps having nosebleeds, and getting bruises when there shouldn't be bruises. I dunno what's wrong with him." Their dad sighs, but still doesn't list his attention too far from his notes.

"He's probably just got a cold, Dean. And kids his age bruise and bleed easy, just keep a closer eye on him." Dean bristles at the implication that he doesn't keep a close enough eye on him already. No matter what, Sam is always in his field of vision, the kid is never more than 20 feet away from him at any time. Usually closer. He huffs and looks back at Sammy. He knows there is something wrong with his baby brother. He just knows it. Obviously though, dad wasn't concerned as usual so Dean would just have to make sure Sammy got better by himself.

* * *

It's another month before Dean brings it up to his dad again. The man is just about to leave for a hunt a state over, shouldn't be gone more than a day or two. And although they're staying with Bobby, Dean is worried. Sam is still poorly. The bruises are appearing all over and he's always sleeping and complaining of feeling bad.

"Dad, I don't think you should go. Sammy is still sick and I really think he needs a doctor now." John huffed in frustration and continues to check he has everything in his duffel.

"Dean, Sam is fine. Kids get colds all the time, and you know him. Picks up every damn thing going. I'll only be gone a day or two and Bobby will be back soon. You will be fine." He swings his pack over his shoulder and checks the room one last time for anything he might have missed.

"Look after Sammy." Is all he says before he leaves the room and heads out towards the front door. Dean hears it slam, and then listens to the Impala roar out of Bobby's yard. Sam was just waking up when Dean made his way over to where his brother was laying.

"D'n?" His sleepy voice calls out, hoarse and dry as it has been for a while now.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean takes a seat beside his brother on the bed. On instinct he raised his hand to Sam's sweaty forehead, dismayed to find his temperature had risen since the last time Dean had checked.

"Daddy?" Sam asks quietly, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. Dean knows Sam's small for his age, had done research when dad had left the laptop behind last time. Just another thing for Dean to worry about.

"Dad left for work about five minutes ago, Sammy. Now, how d'ya feel? Any better?" Sammy rolled over and sat up against the headboard, face screwed up into a baby version of what dad called a 'bitch face'.

"Didn't say bye? How long for?" Dean sighed, reaching forward t brush his fingers through Sammy's damp hair.

"You were sleeping, he didn't wanna wake you up and he'll only be gone a day or two. Now, you feelin' any better, want something to eat?" Sam shook his head.

"Still don't feel good, Dee. Apple juice?" Dean chuckled.

"Sorry Sammy, Bobby's all out of apple juice. We got milk or water." Sam pulled the bitch face again.

"But I want juice! Sammy demanded, and Dean would have laughed at the disgruntled look on his baby brothers face if it wasn't for the fact that his nose decided it was going to start bleeding again.

"Aw, Sam. You got another nosebleed buddy." Dean stood, then swooped forward. Gathering his brother into his arms, he carried him through to the bathroom. Setting him down on the closed toilet seat, he put a hand on the back of Sammy's head to tilt it forward, making sure the blood didn't flow down Sam's throat and make it harder to breathe.

"Alright squirt. Leave your head like that and don't squirm around. It'll stop soon." Dean pulled down some tissues from beside the toilet and pressed it against Sam's nose. The first bundle was soaked through pretty quickly, which wasn't unusual. However, when it had been five minutes and all that was happening was Sammy getting paler, Dean began to panic. The nosebleeds usually stopped after the first few minutes and Sam usually got over them pretty quickly, but right now Dean could feel the heat radiating from his brothers greying skins and see his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes threatened to close.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked quietly, voice shaking with badly concealed fear. He raised his spare hand and pressed it against Sam's cheek, letting himself smile a little when his baby brother leaned into the touch.

"Mmm?" Came Sam's tired response, forcing his eyes open to look up at Dean.

"How you doing, little man?" He asked gently, stroking his thumb against Sam's cheekbone.

"M'head hurts, Dee. And spinny. Feel funny." The panic in Dean's chest increased. Sammy's voice was slurred and it looked like he could hardly keep his eyes open.

Dean collected a new fist of tissue to press against Sam's nose, scooped his little brother up and carried him on his hip to the kitchen where Bobby's phones were. Dean set Sam down on the table, one hand on Sam's shoulder to hold him steady whilst he reached behind him to grab the phone. Dialling his dads number from memory, Dean prayed he would answer. It rang through until the automated voice told him that the person was unable to receive his call. Dean cursed and looked over at Sam. He didn't look good, and he knew he had to ring someone but it had been ingrained into him that the authorities were not his friends. He couldn't ring for an ambulance, and Bobby was a town over towing a car. This was important though, and Sammy was drooping against him tiredly, so Dean took a breath and dialled the number.

"Hello?" Came Bobby's gruff voice.

"Bobby, it's Dean." He replied hurriedly, as he scooted closer to the table and tilted Sam's limp head back to check the bleeding. Thankfully, it looked like it was slowing, but they still needed help. Sammy was definitely sick. Too sick for Dean to make better by himself.

"Dean, is everything okay? Where's your Daddy?" Bobby's voice became concerned, but it was still gruff.

"Dad's on a hunt since about half an hour ago and he isn't answering his phone. Sammy is really sick and I don't know what to do." Dean spewed out, pulling Sam close to him and rubbing soothing circles on his back. His baby brother had tears streaming down his face now and Dean could tell just by the set of his shoulders and droop of his head against his chest that Sammy was in pain and close to passing out against him.

"What d'ya mean, sick?" Bobby questioned.

"I think he's been sick for weeks but now he has a fever and a headache and I think he's pretty dizzy. And his nose has been bleeding non-stop for ten minutes now." Dean heard Bobby's sharp exhale before the man started talking again.

"Alright, I'm coming home. Just sit right, alright ace? I'll be about half an hour." Dean sighed in relied. As long as nothing changed before Bobby got back then he could do this.

"Yeah, thanks uncle Bobby." Dean replied quickly, listening to Bobby's hum of acknowledgment before hanging up and turning his attention back to his baby brother. The blood stemming from his nose was now slow and thick, coagulating to a stop, which Dean was thankful for. Sammy looked awful though, hair plastered to his warm, damp head. Pale and shaking, slumped exhausted against Dean.

"Hey Sammy, how you doin'? Dam stirred against him, lifting his heavy head to look at Dean through his impossibly long eyelashes. His eyes were wide, rimmed with remaining tears, pulling the puppy dog face that got him pretty much anything from anyone but their father.

"Feel bad, D'n. Want daddy." Sam whined, and Dean sighed.

"I know you do, tiger, but daddy's at work and isn't answering the phone. Uncle Bobby's coming though." Sammy nodded against his chest and let his tired eyes slide closed again.

"M'tired. Go back to bed?" His baby brother muttered. Dean tilted his head back once more, relieved to find the nosebleed had finally come to an end.

"Yeah buddy, we'll just get you cleaned up and into some new PJ's then you can go to sleep alright?" Sam didn't even nod this time, just mumbled a vague sound under his breath and allowed Dean to gather him back up again. They stopped in the bedroom to pick up some fresh clothes and then went back to the bathroom where Dean balance Sam on the toilet seat again, one hand steadying him. His brother was pliant whist Dean cleaned him up and changed him into his dinosaur pyjama's. Three months ago, that wouldn't have been worrisome. But recently Sammy had taken to throwing a fir whenever Dean tried to change his clothes for him. Apparently Sam was a big boy now, nearly four years old - although when he held up fingers to demonstrate his years he only held up two- and he could do it himself. Usually, Dean had to help him out a little in the end but never without a fight. Never just with sleepy compliance like this.

"Alright, little dude, lets get you back to bed." Dean whispered, lifting Sam up and carrying him through to his bed again.

"I'm not little no more, Dee!" Sam retorted weakly as Dean shifted the sheets and comforter over his feverish little brother. Dean grinned a little and snorted.

You'll always be little compared to me, tiger." Dean laughed back, but Sam had already curled up and fallen asleep next to him. Dean sighed, changing his own blood splattered shirt before climbing back onto the bed beside his brother and waited for Bobby.

* * *

Bobby arrived twenty minutes later, knocking on the bedroom door and announcing it was himself before Dean even got himself away from Sammy's clingy arms wrapped around him. Gently, he pried himself out of the bed and nudged Bobby back into the hallway, much to the other mans amusement.

"He's asleep now, the nosebleed stopped. But he's really not okay." Dean started, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told dad he wasn't okay a month okay. I knew he wasn't!" Dean growled.

"Alright, Dean. Calm down a minutes will ya? Tell me what you think's been wrong with him and then we can check on him together, alright?" Dean nodded.

"I just thought he had like the flu or something, said he was always said he was cold and his bones were hurting. But then he started getting nosebleeds all the time and these bruises have been coming up all over when he hasn't done anything to cause bruises. And he has really bad headaches, sometimes he doesn't get out of bed all day 'cause of them. Now he has a fever as well." Bobby's eyes widened in a minute show of concern and Dean knew he was right, something was wrong with Sammy.

"You think he needs to go to a doctor too don't you?" Bobby pulled his cap off and ran his hand over his grey hair before nodding.

"You called your daddy since you called me?" Bobby asked, Dean shook his head.

"I called him before I called you but he didn't answer. He hardly ever does when he's on a job." Bobby sighed but gave Dean a nod in acknowledgement.

"Alrighty then, lets go check on your little brother and see where to go from there." Dean moved forward, opening the door and moving into the room before Bobby so he could be the one to wake Sam up. His little brother usually threw a fit if Dean wasn't the first person he saw when he woke up. Conditioning to Dean having practically brought him up. Reaching out, Dean brushed his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Hey, Sammy. I need you to wake up for me." There was no response, so Dean moved his hand down to his little brothers shoulder and shook him gently. Sam's eyes fluttered but closed again soon after. Dean sighed and gave him another shake.

"C'mon Sam. Wake up for a little bit for me okay?" Sam groaned but slowly opened his eyes. He looked exhausted, but once his eyes were open he glanced over at Dean and Bobby stood beside him. His puppy dog eyes were going fully blown, glistening and focusing all of their power directly at his brother and uncle, and then suddenly they weren't. His eyes dulled and lost focus, his body tensed, soft muscles going hard under Dean's touch and his entire body trembled slightly.

"Bobby! Something's happening!" Dean cried. Bobby nudged Dean out of the way a little, pressing his fingers to the pulse in Sam's neck and measuring it's horribly fast beat. The boys breathing was erratic, his body still tense and shaking beneath his fingertips. Bobby had seen this before, in a young boy at a hospital he'd been visiting as part of a case. He recalled the nurses shouting _'He's fitting, petit mal!'_ before the doctors had come and whisked him out of view. What was happening now was almost exactly the same as what he had seen then. Dean watched as panic and then understanding registered on Bobby's face.

"What's happening?" He demanded, fearful and confused. Bobby spared him a sympathetic glance.

"He's very sick Dean." As Bobby was talking, Sam's body went slack again and slumped back against the bed. As far as Dean could see, Sam was a little bit awake but not fully. His breathing was fast and he was moaning like he did when his head was hurting too much. As soon as Bobby felt the boy go limp beneath his fingers, he pulled him up into his arms gently and made out the doorway, knowing Dean would follow.

"We need to get Sammy to a hospital."


	2. Hospitals and Phone Calls

**Thank you for all the encouragement, reviews and follow/favourites. You're all so amazing! **

**All mistakes here are mine, and there might be more right now because i have to use the onscreen keyboard for my 'R' key and my 'V' key. I apologise for that.**

**Anywho. Angst ahoy and i hope you're ready cause this is just the beginning.**

**(Also- The boy in the cover picture is like a blonde version of what i want toddler Sammy to look like.)**

* * *

"I need you to grab my keys and wallet from the table by the door, okay Dean?" Bobby threw over his shoulder as he carried Sam out towards the car. Dean just nodded dumbly, grasping them and slamming the door shut behind him. Bobby had laid Sam out over the backseat of the old sedan he'd left in that morning. His little brother was blinking up at him with wide, tired eyes as he climbed in beside him, pulling Sammy's head into his lap.

"It's alright, Sammy. Bobby's gonna take us to the hospital so we can get you better, okay?" Dean whispered, carding his fingers through Sam's hair as Bobby sped out of the salvage yard. Sam just nodded up at him, tears welling in the corner of his eyes as he lightly grasped at the hand Dean had balanced on his chest to measure the boys heart rate. Dean could feel Sammy shivering and twitching underneath his fingertips, could feel the way his heart pounded against his chest.

"M'hea'hurs De'n." Sammy slurred, trying to cuddle further into Dean. Bobby glanced back to them as Sam's tired, weak voice filtered through the car.

"Shh, I know it does buddy. We'll get you better soon though, alright? Don't worry about it, the doctors will make it better. Right uncle Bobby?" Dean knew by the look on Bobby's face that the older man was worried, but Sammy needed the reassurance right now.

"That's right, Sammy. The doctors will have you fixed up in no time, tiger." Dean ignored the slight tremor in Bobby's voice, instead focusing on keeping Sam awake until they got the Sioux Falls General. His little brothers eyes kept fluttering open and shut and although Dean loathed to keep shaking him awake when Sammy had been so tired for so long, he knew that whatever it was that that happened when Bobby came into their room was bad. Dad had always told Dean to stay awake if he was really bad until they could get help, and he knew that whatever was happening with Sammy right now was really, really bad. And he'd told dad. Told him weeks and weeks ago that Sammy was sick and they should go see a doctor, but he hadn't listened and now for all they knew his baby brother could be dying!

Dean shook his head sharply, trying to dislodge those thoughts. He would not let Sammy die. Not now, not ever. He continued to measure Sam's vitals with a hand over his chest and whispering sweet calming words over his head, glancing around every now and then to see how far they were from the hospital. Sighing in relief at seeing the entrance sign to the medical facility, he held Sammy against him a little tighter.

"Were at the hospital now, little man, you'll be okay soon." Sam nodded tiredly against his chest and shivered as If he was cold, even though Dean could feel the heat from Sam's fever soaking through his own clothes.

"Daddy?" Sam whispered, throwing Dean the puppy eyes again lined with tears.

"I'll call him when you get seen. He'll be here, Sammy." It was the same promise he'd made on Sam's third birthday when dad had been hunting a vampire nest with Caleb, and dad hadn't shown then either. This time, Dean hoped his dad would actually leave the hunt and come home for Sammy. Sam didn't even reply, just laid there and waited while Bobby parked and then made his way around to lift him from the car. Dean scrambled out behind them, keeping his hand in the grasp that Sam had on him and following closely as they made their way into the emergency room.

"Can I get some help over here please!" Bobby demanded, holding a slowly fading Sam in his arms. Dean could feel his baby brothers grip on his hand getting weaker and weaker and he could feel his own panic raising into a tight knot inside his chest. Two nurses rushed to them, orderlies following with a trolley that Sam was immediately placed into. Dean stretched his arm as far as it would go as they followed Sam and the nurses to a room down the corridor, trying to give information to questions Bobby didn't know the answer too. The brunette nurse had looked shocked when Dean had began answering instead of Bobby, but continued to direct her questions to him instead.

"How long has he been sick, what symptoms has he had?" She questioned as they reached the room and they secured his bed into place.

"I don't know like five weeks now. It started like a cold, and then he got headaches, and then he kept getting bruises and nosebleeds for no reason." The nurse nodded and lifted Sammy's shirt up to place sticky pads attached to wires onto his tiny chest.

"Okay, so what happened today to make you bring him in?"

"Well he woke up not feeling well with a fever once our dad left for work and then he got a nosebleed that lasted like ten minutes. Then I got him back into bed and uncle Bobby came home and then.." Dean trailed off, he didn't know how to explain the way Sammy had frozen with tense muscles and shook with tiny tremors. The nurse glanced up from the machinery she was attaching to Sam, wondering why he had not continued.

"He had what looked like a petit mal seizure. Tense muscles, no response to touch or sounds and he was trembling a little. It didn't last long, but his headache has gotten worse and he's exhausted now." The nurse was back to attaching an oximeter to Sam's tiny finger and glancing at a machine that Dean knew was counting his heartbeat and blood pressure.

"I just bet you are, sweetheart." The nice nurse cooed down at Sam who was blinking rapidly up at her. Dean recognised that look, it was the one he used when he woke up and Dean wasn't directly in his baby brothers line of vision. Without question, he pushed himself up beside his brother and put his hand on the side of Sammy's cheek.

"I'm right here, Sammy. It's alright. They're gonna make you better." The nurse looked like she was going to say something about Dean being on Sam's bed, but Bobby chuckled lightly and leant over the bed towards here.

"You best not try and separate them. He'll stay out of your way and try not to slow you down, but he ain't moving now that he knows Sammy needs him close." The nurse nodded and continued checking Sam, looking over his exposed skin for rashes and pressing her fingers against his pulse spots like she didn't trust the monitor. Fishing in her pocket, she pulled out a light pen and called to Sammy so that he looked her way.

"Just gonna shine this in your eyes, alright sweetheart?" Sam nodded slightly after a glance to Dean. She pulled his eye lid up a little, clicking the pen on, and Sammy cried out. Shying away from the light and curling into Dean's waiting arms. Dean shot a glare at the woman over his little brothers shoulder and then went back to rubbing soothing circles into Sam's back.

"It's alright, Sam. I know it hurts, but she's gotta so we can figure out what's wrong. It won't last long, okay? You think you can stand her doing it just once more?" The nurse and Bobby watched on, one with shock at the comfort this young man could give his little brother, and the other in prideful contemplation.

"Why she gotta do it, Dee? It makes me feel sicky." Sam whined quietly into Dean's shirt, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. He glanced at the nurse again to make sure she got what Sam had said about the lights, she nodded back in understanding.

"I know, tiger. Just once more, for me? You can squeeze my hand as much as you want till she's done." Sam whimpered lightly, making Dean feel evil for asking this of Sammy, but his resilient little brother just nodded and repositioned himself so he was pressed back into Dean's front and facing the nurse again. She lifted his other eye and flashed the light at him as quickly as she could while Sam's tiny, weak fingers clung to Dean and he pushed himself as hard as he could into his older brother.

"Alright, little guy, all done." The nurse smiled gently at him. "Just need his date of birth, weight and height and then the doctor will be with you guys as soon as possible."

"May 2nd, '83. 27 pounds and 29 inches."

"Huh, he's a little small for his age." Dean just sighed and nodded, and the nurse gave him another small smile before leaving the room in search for a doctor.

Bobby slumped back into the chair beside Sam's bed, watching Dean as he rocked and hummed to Sam. His baby brother was slumping more and more against him until Dean was sure he was asleep.

"We need to call dad." Dean whispered as to not wake Sam. Bobby nodded and sighed, hand delving in his pockets to check for change.

"There are payphones in the waiting room I think, you okay with him for now?" Dean just shot him a _'what do you think?_' look, drawing a chuckle from Bobby who stood with a stretch and headed to the door. Dean glanced down at his baby brother and allowed his earlier fears to crawl back up his throat again. Sammy looked so tiny and pale, sweating and shivering against him, eyelids fluttering like he was fighting the sleep. Dean would never admit it out loud, but he really wanted his dad too. Not just for Sammy, but for himself. As much as he could look after Sam, and Sam looked up to him more than he ever did their dad. Dean was still just a terrified eight year old scared that his brother was going to die.

* * *

Bobby cursed and slammed the phone back into its stand. John's phones were all going straight through to voicemail. The hunt he'd gone on meant he wasn't more than a state over, he should be there by now and damn well able to pick up the phone. With a sigh, he collected another quarter from his pocket and slipped it in the phone, this time dialling Pastor Jims number, knowing he'd need to get another man on finding John if he wanted to get back to the boys any time soon.

"Hello?" The pastors calm voice echoed down the line and Bobby could have kissed the man for just answering the godamn telephone.

"Jim, it's Bobby." He replied quietly, trying to keep his voice from betraying his concern over Sammy just yet.

"Ah, and what can I do for you today?"

"I'm at the hospital with Dean and Sam. Sammy's sick, and he needs his daddy, but the idjit isn't answering any of his phones. He should only be a state over, no reason to not answer and the hunt shouldn't have started till tonight. The boys need him, but I need to get back to them. Any way you think you could track the sonovabitch down for me?"

"Language, Singer." Jim groused. "How sick is sick?" He inquired, causing yet another sigh from Bobby. It was a wonder he had any air left in his lungs.

"They're gonna do some tests, but less than an hour ago he had a ten minute nosebleed and a seizure. Dean say's Sam's been sick for weeks but John wouldn't listen."

"Sounds about right, hard-headed imbecile." Bobby croaked out a laugh. "Alright, I'm sending Caleb to you and I'm gonna go look for John myself."

"You don't need to send anyone here Jim, just find John."

"I'm sending Caleb, Bobby. You know those kids are like brothers to him, and you're gonna need someone to do food runs and watch shifts with you until John and I arrive." Bobby startled, having forgotten that he'd even need to do those things if Sam was going to be spending more than tonight in the hospital.

"Yeah.. Yeah guess you're right. How far out is Caleb?"

"Not far, maybe two or three hours tops. Do you have your cell phone? I'll call you when I find the eldest Winchester." Bobby hummed his reply that he did have his cell in the car and he'd get it once he went to see the boys again.

"Alright, well I'll send Caleb up to you asap and I should be there in a day with John in tow, hopefully. You call if anything changes?"

"Will do Jim, thanks." Bobby slipped the phone back into the cradle and lent his forehead against the cool plastic of the booth holding the phone to the wall. Letting out a long breath, he let himself revel in the small amount of relief that knowing Caleb would be here soon, and that Jim would be dragging John to his boys, had brought him. It was only early in the day, but he was exhausted from everything that had already happened. And he was doubtful that the rest of the day would be any less eventful. Pulling back and glancing around, he caught sight of someone disappearing into the room Sam and Dean were in.

Time to get the ball rolling, he guessed.

* * *

Bobby came back into the room just as the doctor was introducing himself to them. Sam was just about blinking into consciousness again, with Dean cuddled in behind him where he had fallen asleep against Dean's chest.

"Hi there, I'm Doctor Hanuman, but you can call me Isaac." He smiled at them. "You must be Sam and Dean, huh?" Dean nodded as Sam blinked at the man warily. Bobby coughed from behind them and then moved to stand beside the bed. "And you must be Mr Winchester?"

"Nope, Bobby Singer. The boy's uncle. They're staying with me while their dad's at work, I'm tryin' to get a-hold of him."

"Alrighty then." The doctor smiled at them again and flipped through a file of what Dean assumed were the notes the nurse had taken earlier. The doctors smile slipped a little as he looked up at Sam with concern.

"Well none of this looks very good now, does it? How are you feeling now, Sam?" He flipped the file shut and turned his full attention to the boy on the bed. Sam glanced up at Dean with confused, worried eyes, and Dean nodded at him to tell the man.

"Still not good." Sammy whispered, looking down at his and Dean's hands clenched together.

"Okay, well do you think I can look you over and run some tests and then we can see what we can do about that, yeah?" Another glance, and another nod from Dean and Sammy turned to give his permission to the doctor with wide eyes. Bobby wanted to laugh at the way the mans eyes softened even more, succumbing to the powers of Sam's puppy dog eyes. He didn't try to separate the boys, which was a good move, and roved his fingers gently over Sam's skin, asking where things hurt and pressing in places like his neck and under arms. Humming and taking notes every so often.

"Okay, Sam. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you think you hurt?" Sam turned confused, tired eyes up at Dean.

"You know your numbers, Sammy. If you feel really good at number one and the worst ever at 10, which number between that do you think you feel." Sam looked like he was considering it before turning back to Dean.

"Flu at uncle Jimmy's and belly bug and chicken poxes added all togethered not feel as bad as this, Dee." Dean widened his eyes and turned to the doctor, who was watching them in slight amusement.

"Is there anything more than a ten, cause those are the worst Sammy's ever been and those could'a been tens all by themselves."

"Pretty bad, huh kiddo?" The doctor muttered, jotting down some notes on the file again. "We're going to do some blood tests, and then send Sam down for a chest x-ray and a CT. We'll definitely admit him overnight at least, so I'm going to need someone to fill out information, but that can wait until Sam's settled. You guys just wait here for now, someone will come in to take the bloods and then take Sam to his x-rays, alright?" Bobby and Dean nodded as the doctor left the room.

"Needles?" Sammy whispered, tears once again gathering in his eyes.

"Shh, Sam." Dean whispered back, cuddling his brother closer. "I'm going to be right here, it won't be too bad."

"Pwomise?" Sammy asked him, once again leaning back against him in exhaustion.

"Promise, now get some sleep before they come back again."

* * *

Sammy had cried through the blood tests, Dean had paced in frustration when they wouldn't let him in with Sam for the x-rays and by the time Caleb arrived they'd been settled into Sam's room for the day. They'd given Sam something to help with the pain for now and left him in peace to sleep until the results came back, and Dean was slumped against the pillow beside his tiny brother almost asleep.

"How's he doing?" Caleb whispered to Bobby, who was watching the boys from a recliner by the bed. Dean shot up at the whisper, trained to listen out for any sound when Sammy was around. Caleb winced at the wild way Dean searched around the room before his gaze landed on Caleb.

"What're you doing here, Caleb?" He asked, rubbing the sleep out of the corners of his eyes and laying a hand back down on Sam's chest. Although his little brother was hooked up to machines measuring everything, Dean preferred to measure through the beat of Sam's heart, the rise of his chest as he breathed, the heat coming from his body, with the palm of his own hand. Relieved to find his brother still sleeping soundly beside him, he turned his attention back to Caleb and Bobby.

"Sorry, Dean. Should'a told ya I rand Jim to find your daddy for me. Caleb wanted to come and see how you boys were doing." Dean shrugged and looked over at Caleb as he shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the end of Sammy's bed.

"Couldn't not come if Sammy was sick, Dean. You know that." Dean nodded. He did know that, Sammy had everyone he'd ever met wrapped around his little fingers. Except, maybe their dad. "So, how is the little tyke doing?" Dean shrugged.

"He's sick, they don't know what yet though. They did tests and stuff and now he's sleeping cause of the pain killers." Caleb just slumped into the chair on the other side to Bobby and watched over their youngest with the others.

It was two hours, four different obs checks by nurses and uncountable games of rock paper scissors between Caleb and Bobby before the doctor came back with an unreadable expression on his face. It was now four in the afternoon and every one was anxious to know what was going on. The doctor glanced at Caleb, who immediately stood to introduce himself and shake the other mans hand.

"Dean, do you think you could stand outside while I talk to your uncle and cousin for a moment." Bobby coughed to hide a chuckle and Caleb just looked amused. Dean shot the doctor a dirty glare.

"No." He spat out, and the doctor just sighed in resignation, opening Sam's file and pulling out x-rays and CT scans from a manila envelope.

"Okay then, I thought that would be your answer. We put a rush through on his bloods, and had a radiologist look at Sam's x-ray and CT. The good news is that nothing has shown up on the chest x-ray we did." Bobby nodded in understanding, but frowned at everything the doctor was saying. Before he could comment on it, Dean sat up straighter and frowned himself.

"And the bad news?" He asked curtly. The doctor gave a small nod and turned to the light box for x-rays on the wall beside Caleb's head.

"This is Sam's CT scan on his brain. Do you see this dark mass here? It is a tumour on Sam's Pineal gland, which we first thought was a pineoblastoma. Which is malignant cancer of just this one area. However his blood tests show extremely high blasts, which are almost like bad white blood cells. Low neutrophils and low platelets. These could have been associated with pineoblastoma, however, these levels right now indicate a more of a blood cancer like leukemia. That would make this mass a Myeloid Sarcoma. Basically, up to now our diagnosis is acute myeloid leukemia that has metastasized outside of the bone marrow and created a tumour." They all sat in silence, staring between the doctor and the CT film against the wall.

"Cancer? You're saying my three year old brother has _cancer_?!" Dean growled out quietly, trying not to wake Sammy.

"We need to do a bone marrow aspiration from his iliac crest, his hip bones, to confirm. But yes, as far as we can observe right now. This tumour is big, and perhaps if this had been caught earlier we could have began a much gentler treatment. However as far as we can see it has been a long time since Sam's been seen by a doctor and therefore we need to start an aggressive treatment to combat the chances here. Have you managed to locate your father yet?"

"Um- No.. I don't.. I'll get a check up on that front when we're done here.. So…" Bobby stumbled and coughed. "Treatment.. Chances?"

"Yes. As I said, if this had been caught earlier it would have been easier, but after the aspiration to confirm we need to move quickly. Sam will need to have a Hickman main line put in for intense chemotherapy and we will need to get him fitted for a radiation mask so we can attempt to shrink the myeloid sarcoma in his brain. We will need to put him on anticonvulsants, pain medication and anti-emetics. His chances, even with that now, are around 17-25% at most."

"And this aspiration, when will you do that?" Dean questioned, not looking at the doctor but down at his brother.

"We'll have an oncologist come to asses, and then probably do the procedure this evening in the last rounds of local anaesthetic procedures."

"And treatment, you gotta start that soon like next week or something, right?" He demanded, stroking through Sammy's soft hair. The doctor shook his head.

"No, if the aspiration shows what we believe it will, we'll put the Hickman line in tomorrow morning and then start radiotherapy in the early afternoon. Chemotherapy to begin at maybe tomorrow evening. You'll have to discuss treatment plans with Sam's oncologist."

"Gotta wait for my dad to get here before you do anything."

"Dean, I'm sorry, but your uncle can sign the consent forms and we really need to start treatment as soon as possible if you want the best chances for Sam." Dean stiffened at the blatant manipulations of the care he has for his brother. Turning his attention away from Sam for a second, he shot an almost evil glare at the doctor at the end of the bed.

"Get out." He growled.

"Dean.." Caleb warned, but Dean turned the almost feral look at him and he shut up.

"I said. _Get. Out_." He growled once more at the doctors hesitation. Dean waited until the door had closed behind the mans white coat before lying down beside Sammy and pulling him into the curve of his body. Bobby and Caleb watched him, mouths open in shock.

"Don't worry, Sammy." Dean whispered, burying his nose in the hair behind Sammy's ear.

"Don't worry. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."


	3. Tears and Not Apologetic

**I don't even have an excuse for how angsty i predict this is going to get, so i'm apologising in advance for this and any future pain possibly caused. I do hope you enjoy it though.**

* * *

Dean lay with Sammy, carding his fingers through his sleeping brothers hair, for almost an hour before he turned to Caleb and asked for quarters.

"What for, ace?" Caleb inquired, reaching into his pocket for the change anyway. Dean glanced down at Sammy and then shuffled off the bed to stand quiet, waiting impatiently for Caleb to hand over the money.

"Gotta call dad." He muttered, arms crossed tightly over his chest and glowering at the door the doctor had left through. Caleb paused in his search for change and Dean knew he'd glanced at Bobby.

"Son, Pastor Jim is going to get your dad. Bet he'd on his way right now." Dean scoffed but turned his attention over to Bobby.

"Even if Jim finds him, you think dad's gonna just leave the hunt because Pastor Jim told him to? Me and Sammy, were not the most important things to him. You know that! I gotta call him and tell him how bad it is, cause I don't care about anything else, Sammy is his son and he's three and Bobby- Sam.. He's dying! Dad has to come back cause I have to find a way to tell Sammy he has some weird cancer when he won't even understand and I have no way to make it better and you know he's gonna ask me to." Bobby just sits, frozen in the onslaught of Deans painfully true speech. Caleb takes a deep breath, watching Dean tremble and fight tears, then leans forward and grasps Dean's shoulder.

"Listen to me, Dean. I know your dad's an ass most of the time, it seems like he don't care. But that ain't true, he's doing what he can to keep you safe. He'll come when Jim tells him we're at the hospital." Taking another deep breath, steeling himself for a promise he isn't sure he'll be able to keep. "And Sammy? He's not going to die Dean. Even if the doctors do everything they think they can, we won't let that happen. We will do whatever it takes. I mean it, _whatever_ it takes to make Sam healthy again, alright?" Dean nods but shakes off Caleb's hand on his shoulder.

"Even so, dad needs to hear about Sammy from me. He hates coming into things unprepared." Repeat sighs from Caleb, but he holds out a hand of quarters anyway and nods at Dean in resignation. Dean doesn't even register, leaning over to whisper to a still sleeping Sam that he wouldn't be gone long before spinning on his heel and slipping from the room.

Almost silence prevails over the room, interrupted by the beeping of Sam's heart monitor and the drip of an IV containing anti-convulsants and soft sedatives. Caleb looks over to Bobby across the small body between, the elder man with one hand propping up his head, the other a few centimetres away from Sammy's hand like he was almost reaching out to him but afraid to touch. Caleb can tell his own face must be a replica of Bobby's; somewhere between terrified, concerned and lost.

"He's eight." Caleb finally whispers into the almost silence, dropping his heavy head into his hands and scrubbing along his face like it would clear away the horrors of the past few hours. "Jesus fucking christ Bobby the boy is eight and he thinks he has to get his three year old brother through leukemia by himself because his father doesn't care. How the hell did that happen?" Bobby shrugs, pain and anger warring in his expression now.

"Dean's raised Sammy since that fire and John's just the hardass that leaves them with other people and bit of money sometimes. What else is he supposed to think?" Caleb would normally have argued at least a little for Johns sometimes good nature; but one glance at Sam's tiny body, the cheekbones too prominent for a three year old, a deadly illness raging in his blood and building tumours in his brain and he couldn't find it in himself to try and defend the absent father.

* * *

Dean slipped quarters into the phone and dialled the number for his father, crossing his fingers behind his back in silent prayer for an answer. It rang until Dean was about ready to slam the phone back into it's cradle, and then John answered with a curt '_yeah?'_

"Dad? It's Dean." There was a frustrated sigh on the other end.

"_Dean I'm on a hunt. What is it?"_ His father spat, making Dean swallow and close his eyes, trying to ignore his ingrained response of _'yes sir, sorry sir'_.

"It's Sam. Look, dad, he's really-"

_"I've told you time and again, Sam's fine Dean. Kids get colds and bruises. I'll check on him when I get back. Which might actually be more like week now, so let Bobby know."_

"But Dad-" The beep of the phone signified his father hanging up on him and Dean had to fight back the scream building in his throat and the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

Gripping the phone in his hand, Dean once again let the weight of what was currently happening fall onto his shoulders. It was all he could do to stay upright, thinking about Sammy and the illness and not having his dad nearby was almost too much. He needed his dad, needed actual blood with him to help him through this. 'Cause yeah, Bobby and Caleb were great, and he might love his brother more than anything, raised him since he was months old, but Dean was still just a child himself and most of the time his dad forgot that. Forgot that he was an eight year old who had lost his mom and been dragged around the country searching for things he hardly understood, and not someone to be moulded into the perfect soldier, son, brother. He needed someone who understood what it was like to have lost Mary, and to maybe be losing Sammy; and this time Caleb and Bobby might just not cut it.

The only other option Dean had was to ring Jim and hope he got his dad to listen, and with a sigh Dean pushed more quarters into the phone and dialled another number he had learnt by heart.

"_Hello?"_ Pastor Jim's soft voice echoed down the phone, making tears once again battle for release from Dean's eyes. Jim always had that effect on him when he felt like the world was crushing him.

"It's Dean." He managed to whisper in reply, curling into himself and closer to the wall in an attempt to avoid the attention of concerned nurses.

"_Ah, Dean. How's are you and your brother?"_ Jim questioned gently. Dean could hear the light rumble of a car behind the sound of the other mans voice and was slightly comforted that Jim was in face still on the search for his dad.

"Sam- Sammy.. The doctor says he has _cancer._" Dean's voice broke on the last word, tears finally breaking free in treacherous lines down his cheeks. "They want to do one more test to make sure, but… Cancer, Pastor Jim." He whispered, choking on the lump growing in his throat, trying not to hyperventilate on his own emotions. The line was silent as Dean sobbed lightly, only the sound of Jims slightly laboured breathing echoing along to him.

"_Oh sweet lord." _It was just about a whisper reaching Dean's ears. "_What else did the doctors say, Dean_?" Dean closed his eyes tightly, trying the bring back the doctors words.

"They said something about leukemia, and I've read about that online when I was looking into kid illnesses so I could look after Sammy and that's _bad_. But they said something about it growing in his brain and now he's got a tumour there and the doctor said it makes his chances less and now _I don't know what to do_." Dean's practically whimpering, but that's okay, Pastor Jim won't tell anyone. It's true though, he doesn't know what to do. Because dealing with all the parts involved in Sam being sick; the bruises, nosebleeds, flu-like symptoms, yeah Dean could deal with those. But putting a name behind them, it being a terminal disease like cancer, he can't do that. Dean doesn't know any magic tricks to make that one any better, nothing that will make Sammy think eating chicken and stars and drinking apple juice can fix it all.

_"It's alright, son. You just hold on tight, I'm gonna get your dad to you if I have to drag him kicking and screaming Just look after Sammy like always till we get there, kay buddy?"_

"Yeah. Th-thanks Pastor Jim." Dean manages to gasp out between hiccups, tears slowing down in the wake of reassurances that his father would be brought to them.

_"No problem, Deano. You just look after yourself and Sam, alright? Let Bobby or Caleb know if you need anything. See you soon, kiddo."_ Jim waits for a quiet goodbye, unlike his dad, before ending the call. Dean hangs the phone up and leans against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to get himself back together. It takes a good five minutes of deep breathing and scrubbing at errant tears still dripping down his cheeks before he deems himself worthy of returning to Sam, just in time to see the doctor and a new nurse making their way into Sam's private room. Breaking into a jog, he catches the door and slips in beside them, rounding the others in the room until he's stood beside a still sedated Sammy, clutching at his clammy hand like a life line.

"What's going on?" He demands, eyes still red from crying, but with a stronger voice.

"We're taking Samuel down for his bone marrow aspiration now." The nurse didn't even give the answer to Dean, instead looking up at Bobby as she made her way towards the machines attached to his baby brother.

"It's Sam, not Samuel." Dean spits out. "And what exactly is this aspi-whassit?" The nurse looks both shocked and affronted, glancing between Bobby and Caleb like she expects them to scold him for the way he spoke to her. The don't even shoot her a sympathetic glance, just looking at her with a _'you should have known better' _expression on their faces. A glance at the doctor in hopes of some clarification has her frozen to the spot as he just chuckles before speaking directly to Dean.

"A bone marrow aspiration is taking a sample of his marrow from his iliac crest, the hip bone. Not gonna lie, it's a big needle and if Sam was awake it would hurt, which is one of the reasons we're keeping him sedated. But it's nothing to worry about, Dean. Won't take long, and you can see him straight after. He'll have to lay flat for a couple of hours, but nothing else other than maybe needing some pain relief. And we'll start waking him up afterwards." Dean nodded, glad that the doctor had actually spoken to him and not Bobby or Caleb. The nurse was watching them with her face pinched in disapproval, but went about fussing with the machines once the doctor got Bobby to sign the consent form. Orderlies appeared from seemingly nowhere while Dean leaned over the bed and whispered to Sammy that everything would be okay, and he would definitely be there when he woke up. He kept a grip on his hand until Bobby pulled him back, and Sammy was wheeled away into a room marked 'authorised personal only'.

* * *

They took seats beside the nurses station, where the nurse from Sammy's room was throwing them glances at then whispering with the other nurses nearby. Bored, and with literally nothing better to do, Dean shifted a seat closer to listen in as her disapproving looks became more frequent.

"And he was so disrespectful to me, but they just let him get away with it like he knows what's best for the little boy. He's a kid, for goodness sake! I mean, honestly, what kind of mother would teach her kid manners like that, and not turn up when her son is being tested for cancer? What kind of father?" She hissed, and the other nurses where shooting glances at Dean, and at the nurse, like they were trying to tell her to shut up.

"I mean, honestly! The doctor just went on to explain it to him like the kid would understand. He's just a boy, we shouldn't even be sharing those kinds of thin-" Dean was tired of this woman speaking, tired of her assumptions and _holier-than-thou _attitude. Standing, he stomped his way until he was leaning against the nurse station.

"For your information, lady. My mom? Never taught us manners cause she's dead. My dad? He was too busy trying to keep us safe to teach us how to speak to snotty nurses. And the _right_ I have to know about my brother was gained when my dad put Sammy in my arms at 6 months old and told me to run 'cause our mom was burning up in a house fire that started in his nursery. I've practically raised him since. So, if you think you know better, you -"

"Dean!" Came Bobby's stern voice, a hand on his shoulder, making Dean realise he is shaking with anger and everyone around them is staring in shock at this kid shouting at a nurse. Bobby shot the nurse an apologetic smile this time, Caleb stood behind him.

"I'm sorry, it's been a long day." Dean's about to say something about not being sorry at all, but Bobby's fingers digging in harder stopped him.

"No- I shouldn't have been- I just- I'm so sorry." The nurse turns on her heel, hurrying down the corridor and into a room about five doors down. Bobby shoots the other nurses another sympathetic smile before turning Dean around and pushing him to the very end seats.

"What the hell was that?" Bobby hisses, looking down at Dean with his arms crossed. Caleb fell into the seat beside Dean, looking somewhat shell shocked.

"Did you _hear_ the things she was saying?" Dean demands, scowling up at the older man. "_Didn't his mother teach him any manners? He has no right knowing things at his age_." Dean mimics her voice badly, twisting his face in disgust. Caleb chuckles, but Bobby shoots him a dirty look that shuts him up sharpish. Turning to Dean with a sigh and running his hand down his face, Bobby settles a little from his initial shock and takes the seat on the other side of Dean to Caleb.

"Listen, Dean. I know you're worried, and yeah that nurse was being a bitch, but you gotta focus your attention all on Sammy now. Don't let anyone distract you from that, alright ace?" Dean glances down at his hands, folding into fists in his lap, and blinks away tears for what feels like the hundredth time today.

"Yeah. Focus on Sammy. Yeah. Okay." He whispers lightly, hardly heard by the others. Dean is suddenly exhausted, the days events catching up with him and his adrenaline crashing. Caleb wrapped one arm around him, seeing Dean dropping his head sideways sleepily, and pulled him into a sideways hug.

"Sammy's a Winchester. You know he's gonna fight this, beat this. It's what you guys do." Dean doesn't reply, just lets himself have this moment of relative safety. Comfort. Leaning his head against Caleb's shoulder, Bobby on his other side, he lets himself drift into almost sleep.

"I wish mom was here." It's a slip up of sleepy thoughts, muttered just loud enough for Bobby and Caleb to catch, before he slips into gentle sleep. They share a pained look over Dean's head, Caleb's hand raising to card through Dean's short hair, Bobby's to rest gently against the boy's neck and squeezing gently.

"I know, buddy. I know." Caleb whispers back, letting Dean rest until Sam came back to them.


	4. Still and Sleepy

**I know, it's been too long! I'm so sorry, but life and illness and holidays got in the way. Hoepfully i'll be able to post quite a bit these next two weeks because it's Easter holidays. And i hope this chapter is okay :)**

* * *

Dean had expected a fight with Sammy to keep him lying down and still, but his baby brother was pale and exhausted, listless against the sheets when they brought him back to his room. As soon as his bed was slotted back into place, he pushed a hand through the bars at the side and stroked a finger gently down Sammy's arm until he could grasp his little fingers. There was hardly a reaction until Sam twitched against his hand.

"De?" Sam's little voice was thick and slurred, and Dean shot a look at the nurse who was looking over his little brothers IV.

"What did you give him?" She looked over sharply, a different nurse to the one he had shouted at in the hallway, but she seemed slightly off put as he glared at her.

"Something to help with his pain and something to keep him sleepy for a while." He gave her a raised eyebrow, lips set into a thin line.

"He's had.." She paused to check his file, causing Dean to glare at her again until Caleb chuckled and Bobby nudged him in warning. "Ten mil of codeine and some post-procedural general anaesthetic. It's mild, and it will wear off in about an hour." Dean nodded, unhappy that such strong pain killers had been given to his baby brother. Sammy was usually silly on children's paracetamol, never mind adult medication. Instead of saying anything though, he went back to stroking his fingers up the inside of Sam's arm, resting his fingers over the pulse point in his wrist to measure his vitals before moving on again. Everything else dropped away as he focused on his little brother; although he noticed when the nurse left, nothing else mattered. Sam was twitching every so often, eyes open a little but glassy.

"Hey Sam?" Dean whispered, changing tactics in order to get his brother a little more awake. He stood, leaning over the edge of the bars, and carded his fingers through Sammy's hair.

"Sammy." He whispered again, mouth close to Sam's ears. Slowly, Sam turned his head slightly in his direction and whimpered. Luckily, it had been an hour and the nurse had told them it would be about that time he would be coming down from the meds but also allowed to move a little again.

"Dean?" His baby brother choked out, little hand searching out across the sheets in search for Dean's shirt to cling to, just like he did every time he got sick. Ignoring the warning look Bobby shot him, Dean found the release for the side bars on the bed and lowered them, climbing in gently beside Sammy so that he could be a little closer.

"Careful of the wires, Deano." Caleb muttered to him, eyes focused on Sam's now open eyes. They were still glassy, but he was obviously a little more awake as he whimpered again and leaned towards the warmth of his brothers body. Dean just gave him a withering look before shifting as close as he could to Sam. He knew not to move the area around his hips too much, but didn't resist lying down a little flatter so Sam could pillow his head slightly against his shoulder.

"He's cold." Dean told Bobby, thrusting his chin towards the door. Bobby huffed a sigh but got up anyway to go and harass a nurse for another blanket.

"Wh'r's daddy?" Sam mumbled, curving slightly into Dean's body in exhaustion.

"He's on his way, little ace." Dean smiled into Sam's hair, knowing that as much as Sammy liked being called ace, like Caleb called Dean ace, he hated being called little.

"'M not, li'l." Sam managed to slur out before shutting his eyes against and leaning more heavily into Dean's side. Wrapping an arm around his baby brother, Dean blinked away the film of tears gathering in his eyes and began to hum to him under his breath. Caleb appeared at his elbow a moment later with Bobby, placing the blanket over both of them, letting them both get the rest they needed after such a long day.

One that was no where near over yet.

* * *

Once Dean had dropped off into a fitful sleep beside Sammy on the bed, Caleb and Bobby stepped out of the room, both running exhausted and frustrated hands down their face.

"What do we do?" Caleb asked quietly, leaning against the wall beside the door, Bobby taking up post opposite him.

"Not much we can do but wait for John and Jim to get here, providing he finds him. Knowing Winchester luck, it's gonna be what the doc's think it is, so we gotta keep an eye on Dean as well as Sam. Boy doesn't cope half as well as he has us believing'." Caleb nodded his agreement and let himself lean his entire weight against the wall, exhausted even though it was only about mid-afternoon, early evening at the latest.

"How about I go pick us up some food, and you try and get ahold of Jim again? Meet back here in half an hour tops?" He suggests, receiving a sigh and a nod in return from Bobby before they head of together towards the entrance.

"Sam ain't gonna eat anything but chicken and stars or rice and tomato soup." Bobby called over his shoulder, gaining a chuckle from Caleb.

"Oh, I know." He replied, both thinking about the last time they had been with a sick Sam, although it had only been the flu. Caleb had tried to feed Sam a grilled cheese, only to have him throw it up all over the kitchen table and Dean shout at them, and then ignore them for the rest of the day. Caleb disappeared into the parking lot, jingling his keys in his hand as Bobby dug in his pockets for change.

The phone rang and rang, long enough for Bobby to be almost putting the receiver back down before Jims voice echoed down the line.

"_Hello?" _The Pastor answered, sounding just about as tired as Bobby felt.

"Jim, it's Bobby. Just calling to see if you'd gotten to John yet?"

"_His car is in the motel parking lot I just pulled into, so I'd say so." _Bobby could hear Jim getting out of the car and making his way over to whichever room John Winchester was staying in this time.

"_Hey, Bobby. Stay on the line, you can help me explain this to him so we can get a fire under his idiotic behind and back towards his kids."_

"Yeah, course Jim." Bobby replied, feeding more coins into the phone. He waited as Jim hummed to himself, held his breath when the sound of locks being undone echoed along the line.

"_Jim, what the hell you doing here?" _Pastor Jims sigh as John used the word 'hell' made Bobby twist the corner of his mouth up in a smile, before focusing back on the conversation.

"_Everyone has been trying to get to you, John. Sam is sick." _This time, Johns sigh made it's way to Bobby's ears, and he had an urge to break the mans nose.

"_Look, if this is about what Dean has been saying-"_

"_It is, and it isn't. Now, are you going to let me in or not?"_

* * *

John Winchester, for all of his hardass hunter attitude, is a scared man with two young children and a dead wife. That has never been as blatantly obvious as it becomes the moment Jim informs him that doctors believe his youngest, his Sammy, could have cancer.

It's news that, as a Pastor, he has had to help deliver before, and it never gets any easier. Yet, somehow, watching the confusion, then the anger, pain and then devastation wash over Johns face is the worst time yet. Perhaps it is because he himself is emotionally invested in the wellbeing of these boys, but it makes his throat clench painfully and tears well in his eyes in a way they haven't in an uncountable amount of time.

John threw an entire bottle of whiskey across the room before packing up his things and heading out of the room towards his car.

"John, you're really not in any place to be driving." Jim told him, receiving a patented Winchester glare in response before the man sighed and his shoulders, held up in determination to get to his sons, dropped.

"Yeah." John sighed, turning towards Jim. "Yeah, okay." They headed towards his car, climbing in to the car in silence.

It was an hour later when John finally spoke again.

"If I- Dean told me a month ago that Sam was sick. If I'd taken him to a doctor then? Would anything be different?"

"We don't know, John. And it's not time to be thinking like that, get your head in the game. Your boys need you." John didn't say anything else, instead closing his eyes and leaning against the window. He wasn't asleep, far too keyed up and distraught for that, but hopefully getting some kind of rest. Once they got back to Sioux Falls, he was going to have the wrath of Bobby, Caleb and - most importantly- Dean coming down on him.

John Winchester was going to need all the strength he could get.

* * *

Sam was still asleep when John and Jim finally turned up at the hospital, three hours after they'd left the motel. John, anxious to see his son, burst into the room only to have two pairs of hands pressed against his chest and shoulders, pushing him out. Dean followed them after pressing a kiss to Sammy's forehead, annoyed and disappointed that their father burst into the room like that knowing how sick Sam was.

"What are you doing?" His father demanded angrily, glaring at Bobby and Caleb whilst batting away their hands.

"You need to calm down and we need to talk." Bobby growled back at him, arms crossed tightly, and Dean knew that was to stop him punching the man straight in the face.

"I don't want to talk, I want to see my son. My _sick_ son."

"Oh, no. You don't get to play that card now dad. Where were you when I rang to tell you Sam was ill earlier, or the past times I tried to tell you, huh?" Dean pushed in front of the other men, glaring up at his dad with his mouth pressed in a thin, frustrated line.

"On a job, Dean. I swear, if I'd known how bad it was, I would have come straight home." John tried to side step them, but Dean grabbed his sleeve and tugged harshly until his father was stood right in front of him again.

"You hung up on me before I could tell you! And why does it even have to be this bad, if Sam's sick at all you should be there. Whether it's the flu, or a stomach bug or _cancer_." Dean hisses back at him, fists clenched tightly by his side, both trying to fight back his anger and his devastation. John swallowed harshly, his own posture mirroring Deans. "Pastor Jim shouldn't have had to search for you." Dean finishes, glaring directly up at his father.

"Dean- You know how the job is, people were in danger-"

"Sammy was in danger! Sammy still is in danger. We are your family, where were you?" Dean demands, voice in the middle of 'family' and then having to fight through tears and clenched teeth.

"Dean-" John reached out, putting a hand on Deans shoulder gently as sobs began to wrack him. There were resounding sighs of both pain and slight relief as Dean let go, falling into John and batting at him with weak fists.

"He was having nosebleeds and - God, dad he was fitting and- Where _were_ you?" Dean cried into his fathers shirt, finally stopping his assault in exchange for being pulled tightly to Johns body as the man knelt in front of him.

"Shh. Dean, I know, okay? I know, I'm so sorry. Not going anywhere now, we can do this together, alright? Shh, it'll be okay." It took another five minutes of tight clinging, and another ten before Dean was calm enough, composed enough to go back into the room with Sammy. Although, he stopped his father just before going into the room.

"He- Dad, he doesn't look good. Just, try not to wake him up, kay?" John just nods, pressing a reassuring hand to Deans shoulder as he followed him into the room. It was redundant though, because Sammy was blinking awake sleepily as they stepped back into the room.

"D'n?" He murmured, and he rushed across, climbing back up into his empty space and allowing Sammy to curl into his side again.

"Shh, Sammy. Dad's here now, it's okay." He whispered against his baby brothers ear, gently brushing the soft hairs at his neck.

"Daddy?" Sam whined, twisting his head back to look at his father, smiling sadly down at them on the other side of the bed.

"Hey, kiddo." Their father replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss against Sam's sweaty, cold forehead. "How you feelin'?"

"Mmm, hurty." Sam moaned, burying his head into Dean's neck, seeking out comfort and warmth.

"I know, doctors will get you all better soon, okay Sammy?" Sam just nodded, curled still sleepy in Dean's side. John soothed a hand down his youngest back, fighting against the tears of pain and fear threatening to spill over.

"Yeah, you go back to sleep, Sammy." John choked out. "It'll be all better soon."


	5. Diagnosis and Exhaustion

**This is possibly the shortest chapter I have ever written, but I've been gone a while from this story and I felt the need to ease myself back into it. I'm sorry about being gone so long though, and posting will pick up again soon with longer/better chapters!**

* * *

The doctor could not, in fact, make it all better. Sam was deeply asleep, curled up against Dean with his fingers wrapped around his dad's when he came back with the test results. It only confirmed what Dean had known to be true the moment it had been mentioned. Patented Winchester luck, right? It could never have been anything else, when the scenario painted for you was the worst possible one.

"I'm sorry, but the biopsy shows us that it is leukaemia and it has metastasized on his brain."

"And what does that mean?" Bobby asked, as John, too choked to talk, stared down at his sleeping youngest with something akin to horror.

"It's going to be hard, and i'm not going to lie. The chances of children recovering from stage three AML is low, but we can start radiotherapy and intensive chemotherapy as soon as his oncologist and paediatric nurse come back in the morning."

"Is he going to die?" Dean murmured, pulling Sam closer and burying his face in Sammy's hair. The doctor looked at them, curled together, so young and small on a hospital bed built for people three times their combined age and Dean was sure he could see regret and a sheen of tears in the mans eyes.

"I don't know." The doctor replied quietly. "But we're going to do everything we can to prevent that from happening."

It was getting late by the time the doctor had come and then gone again, nurses in and out all the time after that to check on Sam and keep up with the IV snaking into his arm. None of them slept, all in some variation of pained thought, watching Sam closely like any minute he might just fade out and disappear. Everytime Sammy moaned or moved in his sleep, they would all tense and anticipate.. something? A nosebleed, a fit, something more sinister than even that. It was daunting, knowing that there are cells inside a three year olds body that would conspire against his immune system, against his blood and his marrow. That they could gather and form in his brain, pressing and hurting and changing him. Knowing that there was nothing they could do but put faith into these doctors and their medicines, their knowledge, to save the single most important person they all know.

"He's gonna be okay." Dean tells the room at large at around half six the next morning. He had dozed against Sam's warm, small body for a while before his baby brother had shifted and snuggled deeper into him.

"Of course he is, buddy." Caleb replies with a sigh, rubbing a hand down his tired face. "He's a Winchester, you can beat anything."

Dean nods, determined look set upon his face, and goes back to trying to get in some sleep before Sammy wakes up and they have to deal with all the challenges this day was going to give them.

* * *

John tapped Caleb and Bobby on the shoulder on his way out to get coffee, nodding towards the door in a silent 'follow me' and nodding to Jim asking him silently to stay with the boys. Both of his boys were finally asleep, curled up together like always, sticking close. Both men stood, shoulders sagging in exhaustion and under the weight of the previous day and the days to come. Once further down the hallway, he stopped and turned to them, sighing and pulling a hand through his already unruly hair.

"I think we need to nip this everything will be okay thing Dean seems to be rocking in the bud. He needs to know the realistic nature of what's happening, of what could happening." John tells them, watching as their expressions morph from exhaustion to confusion, through understanding and then both landing on anger.

"Why on God's green Earth would you wanna do that for?" Bobby demands, hands clenched into fists at his sides, Caleb mirroring the angered stance.

"Because hope's gonna get him hurt. Winchester luck? Caleb, you know what you said back then was bullshit right? This families luck is bullshit."

"What, you want me to tell the kid his brother is probably going to die from something he can't save him from, because you've had some fucked up luck until now? You giving up on Sammy before the fight's even started John?" Caleb takes a step towards John, and Bobby reaches out with a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

"Stop that, you don't want to get us kicked out now, do ya? Idjit." He grumbles. Caleb looks mutinous, but steps back into place.

"Of course i'm not giving up on him, but come on! We've gotta be ready for the absolute worst here." John's voice is slipping into the cold tone he uses when preparing for a hunt, like preparing for his son's death is the same as making sure all bases are covered when heading out to behead a vampire.

"And where is that gonna get Sam, huh?" Bobby growls. "He can't figure out how to be strong and fight this with your goddamn pessimism bleeding all over him."

"He's three!" John hisses. "He doesn't know what the hell cancer even is, never mind how to _'think positive'_ to beat it. That's bullshit anyway, you know it is."

"You're underestimating him, and definitely underestimating Dean. If you think for a moment Sammy won't fight, or that Dean will let you spread your down and out look all over him you're wrong. He's a strong kid, John, both of them are, but they need you to keep this goddamn fucked up situation looking as bright as possible!" Caleb hisses at him, pointing harshly between John and the door that Sam and Dean were sleeping behind. John was visibly exhausted, shoulders drooping, dark circles bruising under his eyes. Both the other men were familiar with this look, on Hunters who were done with the life, who'd seen too much, had one thing push them over the line.

"Listen, John." Bobby stepped forward with a sigh, grasping John's shoulder tightly. "Why don't you head over to my place, sort yourself out and get back here in a couple hours?" John looked up at him, trying to figure out what he should do, how he should deal with this right now.

"Yeah." He choked out eventually, much to Bobby and Caleb's relief. "Yeah, okay, but you call if anything happens?" It was phrased as a request but there was nothing optional about it. They'd call or they'd risk pissing off a John Winchester that was already teetering on an edge. They nodded anyway, following him until the coffee machine and watching him leave as they grabbed the weak, watery muck from the machine to tide them over before heading back to the room quietly.

"He's not gonna be able to deal with this." Bobby tells Jim at they watch over Sammy and Dean sleeping soundly next to each other.

"Perhaps we are underestimating John in the same way he is underestimating his children?" Jim whispers back, and the other two shrug in response.

"I don't think so, haven't seen him this bad since he rocked up on my doorstep with those almost three years ago. He might keep it together for a while, but we gotta figure somethin' out for when he does a stupid thing like the idjit he is." Jim once again looks like he wants to fight John's side, but knows he can't, knows that at some point John Winchester will follow pattern and let his boys down one way or another. Then it will be up to them to pick up the pieces, only this time those pieces include a toddler with cancer and a child who has seen too much, knows too much and loves his brother more than anything.

"We'll just be here for them, those boys know they ain't only got one daddy looking out for them." Caleb reaches over his side of the bars beside the bed, stroking a finger gently along Sammy's too-skinny arm.

"Damn straight." Bobby replies under his breath.


End file.
